Astræa
by Tannhaeuser
Summary: Cedric Diggory makes a new acquaintance in the Forbidden Forest. A slightly melancholy story.
1. Chapter 1

Astræa

It happened just a week after Term had begun, and coincidentally, perhaps, on Cedric's fourteenth birthday – the eve of which had witnessed rowdy carnival in the Hufflepuff common room and noisy admiration of his new owl, Pallas. Before dawn of the day itself, however, the not uncommon need of even the most sociable of boys for loneliness and quiet drew him to Hogwarts' ancient, almost deserted chapel, where the Fat Friar was chanting the Office _in nativitate Virginis_. The Friar was an old friend, and let Diggory sit undisturbed under the soft rose and gold of the painted windows. Only when Cedric rose to wander the castle grounds did the ghostly father press into his hands a small book, the _Eclogues_ of the Roman wizard Virgilius.

A shrieking and piping announced that the first years had just discovered the Quidditch pitch. Cedric turned aside, therefore, into a little birch copse that slept on the edge of the dark forest beyond. There he stretched himself out on his back under a nodding tree, opening the book at random.

_Iam redit et Virgo… _He glanced down at a footnote: 'Astræa, Goddess of Justice, associated with the constellation Virgo; her return from Heaven was supposed to herald the Golden Age.' _Dea…dignata cubili est … _The text, with all reverence to the Friar, was not thrilling. In the soft grey morning, with the forest murmuring behind him, a fellow who'd been up a bit late-ish might well drift off…

He saw her, Astræa, with sword and scales, picked out in silver stars. She came to him, and lay her blade across his chest, her head upon his drumming heart – such peace –

Good Lord, there WAS someone there! Cedric started up, to see a silver something flash off toward the depth of the forest. Only, before she disappeared quite, she turned. A Unicorn. She seemed to shimmer in the twilight of the wood, and Cedric recognised the elements of his dream, the starry whiteness, the gleaming blade of her horn, and …

'No,' he grinned to himself. 'You've gone silly, you're still dreaming. Unicorns don't even LIKE wizards.' At which, an irrepressible sense of loss seized him, but – the Unicorn was still there. He lifted his hands to her, pleading: 'Don't go, Astræa. Please.'

Delicately she stepped back to him, and nuzzled his hand. Then she was gone.

'Mr Diggory!'

'Hmmm…? Sir?'

'_Absit a nobis_ – far be it from us to disturb your meditations, doubtless much more profound than any slight tuition we may impart.' The permanent sneer seared onto Professor Kettleburn's face by a Swedish Short-snout wrinkled yet more unpleasantly. 'Nevertheless, my young Badger, a proper recognition of authority, be it never so small, shall be extended in this class to the designated instructor. I have asked you no less than three times to distinguish the Short-Tempered Knarl, _Hortitortor irascibilis_, from the Common or Garden Hedgehog, _Erinaceus europæus_.'

'I'm very sorry, sir.'

'Hmph.' Professor Kettleburn's stumped hands wheeled his chair close, and he peered at Cedric with scaly, lidless eyes. 'It is only your due, Diggory, to state you are the rare boy who says "I'm sorry" and actually means it. Well, look slippy, as you young people say, and answer my question – before I wither away to a skeleton and frighten Professor Quirrell to death.'

After class, Cedric approached the Professor. 'I'm awfully sorry about what happened, sir.'

'It should not signify, Diggory – but I have noticed a certain abstraction in your manner for several weeks past. What strange star has thus entranced our Digger? Some bold new Quidditch manœuvre?'

'No, sir, nothing like that. May I ask you a question, sir, on … on Magizoology?'

'Pray do not employ that detestable neologism to me. If you mean "magical creatures", say "magical creatures".'

'Yes, sir, magical creatures. Unicorns, sir. _Fantastic Beasts_ says they prefer witches to wizards. I was wondering if that was always the case, sir.'

Kettleburn spluttered like a cauldron boiling over. '_Fantastic Beasts_, forsooth! Newt Scamander, pah! Twenty-seven paltry paragraphs, incomplete, unscholarly, unsound, by a jumped-up Ministry jack-in-office and Jarvey-fancier! I should never, of course, disparage our esteemed Headmaster, but I protested bitterly – most bitterly – when he forced that wretched screed upon my classes. But education at Hogwarts has gone straight to the Bundimuns!

'Look here, Diggory, the point you raise is a perfect example. The Unicorn is the finest, purest, most innocent of all creatures there are. Naturally, therefore, they detest any hint of … er … impudicity. All our classical sources – wizards like Solinus and Physiologus, who knew what they were talking about – tell us the Unicorn therefore favours _virgines_. This word, though it may be translated as "maidens" or "young witches", more properly refers to … er … a lack of carnal experience,' (Kettleburn crimsoned beneath his white network of scars) 'in either a young witch or a young wizard.'

'So a Unicorn might actually make friends with… oh, a boy, say? I mean, he wouldn't have to be any special kind of boy or anything.'

'I have known it happen.' The Professor lifted his red-rimmed eyes. Abruptly: 'Now, my Badger of Badgers – be off with you, before I am forced to impose a hundred lines from _Fantastic Beasts_ – a Fate to which I should hesitate to consign any wizard.'

Cedric grinned. 'Yes, sir.'

'Oh, and Diggory!'

'Sir?'

'I should say, a very special kind of boy indeed.'

Cedric reddened and ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Astræa ****– Chapter Two**

**2.**

He had to see her again, of course. He had strayed once or twice to the grove, telling himself he was not _really_ disobeying the school rules, that the edge of the Forbidden Forest was not _really_ the forest itself. The silver birches had lost their foliage by now, their gothic traceries making them like white columns surrounding an empty cloister. She was not there. The soft morning air drove white veils of mist over the soft mosaic of faded leaves that hushed his steps and emphasised the silence and loneliness of the grove. She was not there — and yet her absence was not merely negative, not a simple absence of meaning. She spoke to him by refusing to speak. She would not come to him; nor would she let him come to her. He knew, then, that no kind of falsity could stain their friendship.

To go within the bounds of the Forest unbidden required the permission of two professors. The first was easy.

'I say, Professor Sprout? May I — ?'

'Yes, yes, yes, of course, Diggory. Ah, there you are, you rascal,' she remarked to the Invisible Fernhopper, which her wand had just turned grey-green and gold. 'Of course you may. Certainly you may. You know, Muggles don't even realise these pests exist. Fern seed, you know, renders objects invisible, and these little fellows stuff themselves with it. You'd suppose even Muggles would figure out they exist when they can't find any fern seed, but I believe they've trumped up a story about wind-blown spoons or some such nonsense. To see a uni– ? Ah, there's another one. Very good, Diggory,' she said, scribbling, 'Don't forget to check for some St. John's Wort when you reach the — Oh, no, you don't, you little…!'

The second was more problematic. Professor McGonagall? Too much of a stickler for rules. Flitwick? Certain to ask far too many questions. Snape? No fear! Quirrell? Cedric grinned — even to mention the Forbidden Forest to the Dark Arts master would probably cause a seizure. Professor Dumbledore, of course, trumped everyone, but he was rather too big a bug for a question like this — and besides, if he said no, there would be no chance to appeal to anyone else.

Why, of course, the very man!

'Well, Diggory, what is it?' Professor Kettleburn, plainly in no very amiable mood, scarcely glanced up from his examination papers, goring their tales of cock-and-bull with a red-stained quill, like an academic picador.

'Please, sir — I wonder if I might have permission to enter the Forbidden Forest — just the edge, sir. Professor Sprout has already given hers.'

'My young friend, even a modern Hogwarts education should left you aware of the meaning of the words "Forbidden Forest." Were I to grant permission to enter it, we should have to alter the name to the "Somewhat Discouraged Forest' or the 'Not Really Recommended Forest,' should we not? I hardly consider it a gain in euphony.'

'Please, sir — it's to see a Unicorn.'

Professor Kettleburn drew in his breath with a hiss. The red stump that had been his thumb snapped the nib off his quill. Cedric stood stock-still, gazing into the Professor's filmy eyes. A big wet drop formed in each, stood trembling, and slowly rolled down his scarred cheeks like the drops of a waxen candle.

'You have — you have seen — '

'Yes, sir,' said Cedric, quietly. 'And you have, too, I reckon. So you know that I have to see more.'

Silently, Kettleburn drew out a clean piece of parchment, cut himself a new nib and sharpened it, and wrote out, in an elegant, chaste hand, permission 'to Mr Cedric Diggory to enter the Forbidden Forest for the purpose of deepening his knowledge.'

'Thank you, sir. You know how much these means.'

'There are just two things, Diggory. When I was a young man, there used to be a scrap of Muggle poetry that became rather well–known. It went something like

When I was one–and–twenty,

I heard a Wizard say,

Give Galleons, Knuts, and Sickles,

But not your heart away.

That, like all Muggle advice, is completely useless. Hearts are not given, but taken; and yours has been. Be warned: it may bring you grief unspeakable — but also such inexpressible joy as makes grief itself glorious. That is the first thing.

'The second is that you must go secretly, and tell no-one where you have been or what you have been doing. Wear a cloak, preferably with a hood to hide your face; let no-one follow you. No evil must come to her through you. Only the vilest of beings will ever consciously hurt a unicorn. If ever you do so, you will have ceased to deserve the rights of a human being, and I should crush you as I would a deadly serpent. That is all, Diggory. Now, go — and give your friend my love.'

'I…' Cedric gulped, 'I _will_, sir.' He made an irresolute turn toward the door, then flung suddenly back and pressed the broken old man to his heart with a force that only the chest and arms of a young badger in love could generate. A moment later, the vaulted hall carried back the echo of a rough light baritone raised in some baroque, exultant anthem about 'fresh woods and pastures new.'

Professor Kettleburn returned to a meticulous scoring of examination papers, every one of which, remarkably, attained to the highest level of academic achievement in his entire history of teaching at Hogwarts.


End file.
